


Baby Mine

by Aryagraceling



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Fills [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Emotional Hurt, Grief/Mourning, Parental Death, Parting Word Regret, Self-Hatred, Tumblr Prompt, premature baby, referenced character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 08:20:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryagraceling/pseuds/Aryagraceling
Summary: “No,” I repeat, and a tear falls on wispy black hair. If I speak about Sakura now, tell our baby about what a force of nature her mother was, I won’t be able to stop speaking and I’ll never let the last reminder of her go like I know I should. It’s easier if I ignore the way my heart aches with both love and longing for the family I’d only begun to have.“No,” I say once more, and the word is the quietest sob as I lean my head down to nuzzle against my baby’s temple. “No, no, no, no…”





	Baby Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr request for anon, "I died when she did" for SasuSaku
> 
> Also done for BTHB "parting word regret"

I should hate her. I hate everything else in this godforsaken place–the crisp sheets, the smell of antiseptic, the soft, steady beeping of monitors from all sides. My chest aches with the memory of nights spent up hating _myself, _hating that I was stuck here with only heated glares to welcome me back to the village. 

I should hate the way she makes me want to cry. I should hate the way she looks so helpless just laying there, how her fingers–so impossibly small–clench rhythmically along with mine as I fight back tears. I should hate the fact that she can lay there as peaceful as my wife is laying on a cold slab in the basement, but I can’t.

She’s all I have left. 

Shizune’s arrival isn’t unexpected, but it _is _unwelcome. Her questioning about how I feel about holding a tiny body to my chest sets my jaw to clenching, her insistence I at least hold one of the little hands sending a bolt of anger through me.

“No,” I whisper. I wish I could say it’s a firm syllable, but my voice quavers under the weight of Shizune’s disappointment. “She can stay there for now. I’m not ready.”

“Sasuke–” Shizune sighs– “with all due respect, it’s not about you. It’s about your baby right now. Haven’t you been selfish enough?”

“Please leave,” I say. My chin begins to fold, and I turn my face to the floor to hide the weakness. “Unless you’re here to monitor her, get out of my space. I’m not touching her.”

It’s not as though I can say no forever, but right here, right now, this moment is something I can control. If I can’t control my grief, I can control who sees me fall apart.

The child won’t remember me weeping by her bedside.

“You shou–”

“You need to go,” I say icily. “Now.” Then a second later, a bit softer, “Please.”

Shizune’s shoes whisper over the floor before the door shuts closed with a disturbingly loud _click. _I tuck my heels up on the bar of the chair and rest my forehead on my knees, the sounds of monitors fading into the background as my heartbeat threatens to drown out everything around me.

I never wanted things to end like this. I never really wanted things to _end, _though they would have anyway, but my wife dying suddenly enough I couldn’t say goodbye wasn’t how I’d imagined her final moments. She was supposed to go out in some blaze of glory, some far away mission where she was hell-bent on saving people…not here.

Not now.

One tear stains my pants, then another, and another until their edges blur together and I can’t pick out the individuals. Uchiha eyes are not meant for crying, they always told me, but I’ve had enough of holding back for the day. My shoulders shake as my hand wipes over my eyes, messily smearing tears across cheeks that have once again forgotten how it feels to smile.

The child was never supposed to be mine to hold anyway, not until she was older. I was supposed to be out on a long mission, sent away to atone for everything I’ve done. I suppose it was to be part of my punishment, being unable to mold the Uchiha heir, and because of that, I saw no reason to busy myself with her past helping Sakura through the pregnancy.

I have no idea how to keep her alive. She’s safer here, where there are people who know how to care for her. 

_Safer._

I wipe my eyes again and stand, toppling the chair behind me. I don’t look to the side, don’t look behind me as I stride toward the door. It’s better this way. She deserves better than a man who can’t stand to look in the mirror, and a man who’s incapable of _thinking _to hate her. She deserves better than my absence, my anger, my history.

Better than me. 

All chances of her having a better life than the one I can give her died with Sakura. My want to live here died with her, as did my hope for continuing the Uchiha line. I don’t even know if the child will even survive the next few months, and that thought beats through my head as I open the door and run straight into Tsunade.

“Sasuke,” she says, holding me at arm’s length. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Away.”

“Sit down,” she says, and there’s no room for disobedience. “Take off your shirt.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not letting you leave this room until you’ve held the child she _died _to bring you, you ungr–”

I shake my head as she herds me back into the room, unable to meet her eyes. “She’s better off without me.”

“Bullshit. She’s lost her mother. Like hell I’m allowing her father to abandon her,” Tsunade says, eyes flashing. “I said take off your shirt. It wasn’t a request.” 

She’s pushed me back to the padded chair against the wall before I can protest, her gaze pinning me to the wall harder than Sakura’s ever has. I don’t want to, and I open my mouth to protest before her brow softens and I reconsider. “Why?” I ask again.

Tsunade’s entire body droops as she turns away from me to extend a finger towards my child. There’s less bite in her voice when she speaks once more. “I want you to be there for her,” she says softly. “Hold her once. That’s all I’m asking today.”

“That’s too much.”

“It’s not nearly enough.” A cry bursts through our shared space as she picks up the baby and cradles her against her chest. She nods toward where my fingers are hesitating at the neck of my shirt, and with a heavy heart, I bare my chest. “Sit, please.”

The fabric of the chair is rough against my neck as I lean back, looking pointedly away as Tsunade steps toward me. “I’m going to drop her,” I say, holding what’s left of my arm aloft. “I shouldn’t have her. She deserves someone who can take care of her.”

“You’re not very convincing,” Tsunade whispers. Her strong fingers cradle the baby’s fragile form as she stands entirely too close. “I’ll be here, Sasuke. I won’t let anything happen, I promise.”

My muscles are taut to the point of pain, panic building between my ribs and threatening to spill out of my mouth in a confused babble. I shudder at the first contact. Her body feels alien as it rests on mine, wrinkled and chilling as the exhalation of her cries rolls over my skin. She’s _loud, _just like…

_Sakura._

Tsunade–gently, to her credit–pulls my arm up to position it against the child’s back. “There,” she soothes. “Try speaking softly to her. It might help.”

I look to the ceiling as she pulls the other chair to my side. “I don’t have anything to say,” I whisper, voice cracking again. “I can’t do this.” 

The child’s next wail pierces through my ears, sending a shock of pain through my head, and my fingers tighten instinctively on her shoulders. My chest hitches with a cry of my own, one I won’t deign to let Tsunade see. I’ve already been brought low in front of her.

I don’t need another reason for her to pity me.

“Tell her a story,” Tsunade says as the cries begin to quell. “Come on, any one. I know for a fact you have them.”

“Should I tell her about the time I abandoned everything, or the time I nearly killed everyone I care about?” I ask, swallowing hard around the lump in my throat. “How about the things Orochimaru used to do to me?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of something pleasant. Maybe about Sa–”

“No,” I snap.

The baby begins to cry again.

“No,” I repeat, and a tear falls on wispy black hair. If I speak about Sakura now, tell our baby about what a force of nature her mother was, I won’t be able to stop speaking and I’ll never let the last reminder of her go like I know I should. It’s easier if I ignore the way my heart aches with both love and longing for the family I’d only begun to have.

“No,” I say once more, and the word is the quietest sob as I lean my head down to nuzzle against my baby’s temple. “No, no, no, no…” 

“Sasuke,” Tsunade says. I can’t find the fight in me to protest the sad pity on her voice. “Softly,” she continues. “We don’t want her first experience with daddy to be scary, all right? Get a hold of yourself.”

_Daddy._

I sniff, having never felt more undignified. I can’t tear my hand away to wipe the wetness from my cheeks so it just sits there, frustrating as I attempt to rein in the almost _violent _waves of hurt that continue to roll over me at the word. My chest constricts as I try to take a breath, and then Tsunade’s taking the baby from me as I _can’t stop crying._

_“_Another day,” she says.

I nod, face crumpling.

“You’ll stay until tomorrow?” Tsunade asks.

I nod again, and she rubs a hand up and down the length of my arm when she returns from putting my child away.

“If it’ll be easier for you, I can have Shizune prepare our guest bedroom so you don’t need to go home,” she offers when I’ve calmed down a bit. “Unless you’d like to stay here.”

“Whatever,” I whisper. I don’t want to stay anywhere in Konoha but if I’m being forced, then I’ll remain in this room as penance for not being able to save my wife. I can sit and wrestle with the my venomous last words, the way I’d told Sakura that _I don’t matter to you. _That I _shouldn’t. _That I _can’t_, because she shouldn’t have to worry about the way people stare at me in the street. 

She’ll never have to see that again and again, I find myself being pulled in all directions as my mind whirls uselessly. I should’ve told her I love her instead, thanked her for putting up with everything instead of trying to push her away. God knows I can’t tell Tsunade this. She’ll put me through a wall for stressing the mother of my child. 

So I wait.

I wait until my tears dry, until Tsunade decides I’m not going to speak again, until night falls and it’s only me and the baby alone in the world. Her lips part in the tiniest yawn I’ve ever seen and before I can stop myself, I push two fingers into the opening on the side of the incubator for her to hold. When she takes them, I can’t take my eyes off of where we’re connected. 

_Yes, _I think. _I should hate her._

But I won’t.

I can’t.

Not tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always read and _very_ much appreciated, and I always do my best to get back to them ❤️
> 
> You can also find me lurking and yelling about fictional characters on:  
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